The Cold Never Bothered Me Anyway
by AnnieXMuller
Summary: A Fill for this prompt: "Post-Countdown. Josh gets called in. Kate is cold but says she's fine in a trembly voice. Castle intends to deliver hot cocoa at her doorstep, and be all covert about it, but he's about as quiet as a shivering hippo." Chapter two is a Pretty Dead post-ep, and canon is forgotten.
1. Chapter 1

**Prompt: _Post countdown Josh gets called in. Kate is cold but says she's fine in a trembly voice. Castle intends to deliver hot cocoa at her doorstep. And be all covert about it, but he's about as quiet as a shivering hippo._**

**Thanks for the prompt, oh Muse of mine. You know who you are, and this one is for you.**

* * *

**A gentle reminder to the boys, and girls, and NFSK fans, who forgot to take their meds, that harassment isn't just a brief interruption in the swirling dust sparkle jet-stream, it's actually a criminal offense. **

* * *

The sun descends, and the temperature drops, and the moment Beckett steps outside she's back in that container again, freezing to death. An arm wraps around her shoulders, drawing her body closer, and she leans in, welcoming the embrace. Her head rests against his shoulder for a moment, before she lifts her chin and smiles up at Josh.

But his eyes hold a sadness she's come to recognize, and the smile drops from her lips. "You have to work," she says.

"I'm sorry," he replies, tightening his hold on her, squeezing her kindly, as they pause at the curb. "I'll take you home first," he promises.

Kate drops her head back against his shoulder, and nods against him, and the movement of her head just barely disguises the vibrations of the shiver coursing through her.

* * *

She's fine.

The heat is turned up in her apartment, the lamps are burning bright beside her, and she's wrapped in thick, heavy winter blankets hauled off her bed with stiff fingers and shaking muscles.

But she's fine.

And she knows why her phone hasn't buzzed with a single message in the four hours since she left the precinct.

The phone rests in her palm now, her thumb hovering, poised to sweep across the screen, enter in her passcode, and select her contacts. She sees the slight waver in her thumb, takes a breath, and gives it control. She brings the phone to her ear, her hair blocking the cold, smooth surface from making contact with her skin, and waits.

"_Are you okay_?" Castle's voice vibrates, warm and low, down the line.

"Are you?" Beckett asks in response.

"_I feel like a popsicle and just lost the remote somewhere between four layers of blankets and myself_."

"So no," she replies, smiling as she hears rustling, a soft curse, and finally an '_a ha_!' as he finds the remote again.

"_Things just improved a little,_" he tells her, a triumphant lilt in his tone.

"I heard."

"_So I ask again, are you okay_?"

She hesitates, picks at a loose thread on the blanket, and releases a soft, broken sigh. "I'm fine."

"_Josh is keeping you warm, I hope_."

Silence falls between them, and she smiles at the strangled sound he makes when he realizes how that sounded.

"_I meant- I didn't mean it quite how it_-"

"I know," she tells him gently, speaking up to ease his mortification. "Josh had to work; the blankets are filling in for him in his absence." She can almost picture him nodding to himself as he absorbs that information. "It's funny," she continues, "I was so focused on the bomb I stopped feeling the cold. But I guess it never went away, did it."

"_No_," he agrees softly. "_It didn't_."

The silence falls between them again; she shifts slightly, arranges the blanket more securely around her shoulders, curls her legs up on the couch, and tucks them tight against her, snuggling into the blanket and the couch and stealing heat from her own cold body. The phone stays tight against her ear, and all she can hear is his breathing, a rhythmic reassurance he's alive too. They both made it out. "I should let you go," she tells him, her voice low, the warmth in it traveling back down the line to him. "Goodnight, Castle."

"_G'night, Beckett. Stay warm_."

The connection breaks, the call ends; she's not fine, but she feels a little warmer now.

* * *

She jerks awake, snapped sharply back into awareness from a sound out in the hall, blinking against the bright lights as they assault her eyes. The cobwebs of sleep are quickly brushed away and she straightens up on the couch; she pushes through the stiff ache in her neck, ignores the soft crack of her joints, and listens.

Footsteps. Again. Slow and heavy, like each step is a struggle. She checks the time on her phone's display; little more than an hour has passed since she phoned Castle, it's too early for Josh to be off-shift. Freeing her body from the cocoon of blankets, she pushes off the couch and treads softly to the door. Her eye focuses through the hole, and she chuckles softly. With a deft flick of her wrist, she unlocks the door and pulls it open.

Castle spins around to face her, one hand balancing a tray of hot beverages, the other fumbling with his phone. "I was gonna call you first," he says sheepishly.

Her eyes fall to the tray, before meeting his again. "Is that coffee?"

"Ah, one coffee, one decaf, a hot cocoa, and tea." He shrugs. "I didn't know what you'd feel like so I brought everything."

"Cocoa," she announces, plucking the tray from his hands and already working on freeing the cup of cocoa on her way to the kitchen.

She hears the door close, hears his footsteps come up behind her, and she frees the decaf. She turns, and passes it to him. "Trust me," she tells him as he eyes the full-strength coffee instead. "You'll thank me later."

He takes in her slightly ruffled appearance as he sips from the cup, and lines mar the space between his tired eyes. "I'm sorry," he tells her, placing his cup down on the counter-top, and already stepping back. "I woke you."

"Oh no." She halts him by laying a hand on his arm. His eyes meet hers and at his unconvinced look she adds, "I did fall asleep on the couch, but any longer and I would have regretted it in the morning." She tilts her neck and the soft click proves her point.

He shifts his gaze to the blanket bunched on the couch, and her eyes follow his.

"Come on, Castle," she tells him. She leads the way to the couch, placing her hot drink on the coffee table while she sits and arranges the blankets around her. At his hesitation, she holds an end out to him, and shrugs. "You brought me cocoa, the least I can do is share my blanket."

The smile lights up his eyes, and he joins her, careful to hold his cup clear of them both as he shuffles down gracelessly, pressing his hip against her accidentally in the process. "Sorry," he murmurs, shifting to put space between their bodies.

Reaching for her drink, she holds it between her palms and settles back, and the brush of her own hip against his is no accident. Eyes set straight ahead, she sips what remains of the hot chocolate as she says, "I thought we were done today. I thought, this is it. This is how it happens. After everything, it's a dirty bomb that takes me down. Me and everyone else in this city." She laughs softly at that, rueful yet relieved. "And you just grabbed those wires," she continues, awe and disbelief still filling her as she relives the moment. "And pulled." Cups already drained of the hot liquid, she takes his from his hands, and places both on the coffee table.

"Epic dumb luck."

"Only you, Castle," she huffs out on a low chuckle. "Only you."

"Thank God for your partner then, huh?"

"Thank God for something," she mutters in response.

"I feel indestructible." She turns to him sharply when the last word leaves his lips, and the fear in her eyes makes him stop, makes him think, before he speaks again. His hand finds her knee beneath the blankets, and he squeezes gently. "I'm not, I know. Just, in that moment…"

"I know," she agrees softly. "But we're not."

"Yeah."

She slides her hand beneath the blanket, and covers his with it, curling her fingers between his palm and her knee, holding on to him. "Still cold?" she asks, flicking her gaze up to his again.

His eyes hold hers. "I don't notice the cold when I'm with you."

She swallows past the lump that has formed in her throat, and tries to suppress the flutter that's building in her stomach, that's pushing up towards her heart. The intensity flowing between them is suddenly heavy, and his eyes silently finish the sentence, adding to its weight. He leans in; the small distance between them is diminishing, his eyes have dipped to her lips, and she thinks she just stopped breathing. Her mouth opens just a little, just enough, and her traitorous tongue skims across her lower lip. She had his lips on hers so recently, a quick, hard, hot open-mouthed kiss in a dark, dirty street. She had just a taste of him, felt the brief slide of his tongue, and the anticipation of a repeat sends a rush of warmth through her, and God she should stop this. She should put a hand between them, lean back, do _something_ to end this.

But he stops it.

He blinks, snaps his gaze from her lips, and meets her eyes. He pulls back, puts distance between them, and dips his head, apologetic. "I-" He swallows, lifts his chin, and gives her a sad smile. "I should go."

He's already gently brushing the blanket off from around his shoulders before she can speak. He tucks his end of the blanket back around her, his actions slow and caring, his touch warm as it lingers on her exposed arm. "I can see myself out," he says. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Regret tugs at her heart. "Castle, wait-"

He smiles sadly and shakes his head. He leans down, and she closes her eyes as his lips brush a ghost of a kiss to her temple. A poor substitute for the one he had almost given her, but still more than he should even consider right now. "Let Josh keep you warm."

_He's not here_, she wants to remind him. _He's never here_. But that's not what he means. She sits on the couch, nestled in the cocoon of blankets, and watches him leave. His eyes meet hers one last time as he hesitates at the door, and what she sees in them speaks more than any words that left lips tonight have. He nods one final time, and exits, closing the door behind him with a soft, secure click.

But the warmth of him lingers; his touch still burns against her thigh, the fire of need that flared in his eyes scorches low places within her, and she closes her eyes as she lets it consume her.

Only Castle can vanquish the cold.


	2. Chapter 2

**__****Prompt: _#breakupswithDMBwelcome._ ****Thanks, Ali.  
**

******So this one-shot became a two-shot, and now I guess it'll need a title change. **

**_Pretty Dead_ post-ep that takes a sharp turn and then leaves canon in the dust.  
**

* * *

_"She decided it was worth the risk_."

_"Just keep showing up_."

Beckett can't shake Castle's words from her mind.

_Worth the risk_.

_Show up._

"Good choice," she repeats out loud to herself. She tugs her coat on, frees her hair from the collar, clasps her keys in a tight fist, and pulls the door closed behind her. She stuff the keys into a pocket and her fingers skim across the small, folded piece of paper, safely tucked away since L.A. It all hits her again, Royce's words to her, and the intensity in Castle's eyes as they had sat on the couch in the hotel room both on the verge of crossing the line between them. Bouncing nervously on the balls of her feet, Kate waits for the elevator to ding, contemplating bolting for the stairs, when it finally reaches her floor. The doors open, and she strides blindly into it, hand in her pocket, fingers tight around the letter, eyes down, distracted. Strong hands clasp her shoulders, halting her.

"Beckett?"

Her eyes dart up, and she stops from twisting out of his hold. "Ca- Castle?" she gasps out, surprised to see him. She relaxes, but his fingers are still gently curled around her shoulders. "What are you doing here?"

He pushes a hand to the side to hold the doors open. "You're heading out?" he asks, his voice dejected.

"I was coming to see you," she replies slowly.

"Oh." He smiles. "Okay." He steps out of the elevator and into the hall beside her. "You okay?"

"You were coming to see me?" she says in response.

"I think I'm having a breakdown."

Kate frowns at his words, at the serious expression that has taken over his face, and the sad tone in his voice. "Come on," she says, "you sound like you need a drink."

"God, yes."

* * *

She hangs her coat back up in the small atrium closet, and watches as he shuffles into her apartment, and drops heavily down onto her couch. Moving into the kitchen, she collects two glasses and bottle of wine. "Red okay?" she asks.

He glances up long enough to nod, before slipping back into his depression.

"Seriously, Castle, what's up?"

"Alexis," he forces out.

"Oh my god, Castle. Is she okay?" She's at his side quickly. She places the glasses and wine bottle on the coffee table, and sits beside him, turning her body and wide concerned eyes to him.

"She's applying to Stanford."

"I…" She blinks in confusion. "I'm sorry?"

"Me too."

"No." Kate shakes her head. "I mean- She's applying to Stanford? That's the cause of your breakdown?"

"Isn't that enough?"

With a bemused smirk, Kate pours a glass, and passes it to him. "With Ashley?"

Accepting the glass, he sighs. "Yup."

She's quiet for a moment, settling in beside him, her own glass now cradled between her palms. "Well, she hasn't been accepted yet."

He lifts his head, his eyes brightening noticeably. "No, no she hasn't…" He shrugs then, his mood dropping again. "But she's Alexis, why wouldn't she be?"

"I'm not even sure I'd get accepted there now, and while she's waiting she might even change her mind. But," she nudges his arm gently with her elbow, "it's a good school, Castle. I know she's young, and you'll miss her, but you can fly out and see her, and you could move yourself to California if you wanted to."

"I could, couldn't I…"

"Just, don't make any hasty decisions until she gets accepted, okay?"

"You'd finally be able to get rid of me," he tells her.

She expels a short breath through her nose, a mirthless almost-chuckle. "I'm just reminding you there are options."

"Options, yes," he breathes the words out, his body relaxing as he does so. But then his features tighten again, and he turns to her, concerned. "You were coming to see me?"

"Oh," she replies. "No, it was nothing really."

He frowns, and she can see it in his face, how he's going back over the distracted way she stepped forward, almost crashing into him, before he had touched her shoulders.

"It was nothing important," she says firmly. "It can wait."

But he shakes his head. "I asked if you were okay and you changed the subject. Come on, Beckett, what's up?"

His eyes are tender, filled with concern, and she gives in. "I was coming to see you," she begins slowly, struggling with how to broach the subject with each word that leaves her lips. "I was coming to see you because- Josh and I broke up recently-"

"You didn't mention it," he interrupts. "I'm sorry."

_I'm not_, she thinks. _Not even a little bit_.

* * *

_She had returned home from L.A, and the glacial look in Josh's eyes had quickly dealt with the warmth, the slightly reddish hues, the Californian sun had left on her skin. He'd watched silently as she had unpacked, frustration seeping out of him with each item removed from the bag. Kate had ignored his mood. Having had no control over bad weather and delayed flights, she had pushed down her own anger as she'd organized herself. He had already snapped at Castle, before they were even out of the terminal, pissed off that "because of him" they'd lost their table at the restaurant. She had told him not to make plans; she had told him to just pick her up and they'd grab something on the way home. They hadn't done that either. She had bid goodbye to Castle outside the terminal, thanked him for his help, and joined a seething Josh in the car. The drive to her apartment had been so icy she had expected him to drop her at the door, and leave. But he had followed her up, silent but carrying her bag, and then he just stood there, under the threshold to her bedroom, watching as she organized a laundry pile, and tucked her bag away in the closet._

_"I can order food," he said finally._

_Kate sighed. "I'm not really hungry," she told him. "I'm actually kind of tired."_

_"Of course," he replied, his features tight._

_"I lost a friend, a mentor, Josh," she reminded him. "It was an emotional few days."_

_"I'm so glad **he** was there to help you through it."_

_"Okay, you know what?" she snapped, the last gossamer-thin thread of patience snapping. "I am too. I needed my partner, and he was there for me without even having to be asked." Fire lit up her eyes as she dared him to comment on their relationship, hers and Castle's._

_He held her gaze fiercely for a moment, but when he blinked the fight was gone. "I can't compete with him, Kate. With him, for you, your affections. I think we both know this is ending." He gestured between them._

_Her shoulders slumped, the air whooshed out of her, and she was done. She walked calmly to the door, opened it, and held his eyes. "Thank you for the ride home."_

_"Yeah," he replied, collecting his jacket, and doing a quick sweep for any other possessions he might have left previously. "You're amazing, Kate. You really are. And I see now that I never stood a chance with you."_

* * *

She meets Castle's blue eyes, and shrugs. "I don't tend to mention such things." She gives him a shy smile before continuing. "I asked him to leave, after L.A, he said some things and it all just got me thinking."

"About?"

"About so much."

"I'm confused."

"I was too, but today I found clarity."

"Okay?" he replies slowly.

"I'm going to take a risk now, and..." she trails off, aware her words are failing her, realizing there's only one good way to communicate this to him. His glass of wine sits on the coffee table, she downs the last of her own Merlot, and places the empty glass next to his still half-full one. Her palms frame his face, mooring them to one another, and she leans in quickly, and sucks his lower lip between hers. Her thumbs caress his cheeks while her lips slide up to cover his, and she hums in relief as his mouth parts, and his tongue thrusts past hers. She feels his hands fall to her waist, feels his fingertips dig into her skin through her shirt, feels him holding her still, and then tugging her closer. Her body is in his control, moving where he needs it, her lips still pressed hard to his, tongues skating.

Her eyes flutter open, and meet his. She smiles as she slowly eases back, just enough to speak.

"I know you're having a breakdown," she murmurs against his lips. "But-"

"Breakdown is over," he breathes into her. "Breakdown is very much over." His thumbs draw circles at her waist, teasing her shirt up a little more with each rotation.

"Are you sure?" she teases.

He shifts them; his strong hands lift her, and her body is pliant beneath his as he eases her down along the length of the couch. He comes to rest between her splayed legs, eyes full of hope, a smile playing on his lips. She clamps a leg around his waist, draws his body tight against hers, guiding him so that even through their clothing she can feel him, hard, lined up to where she needs him most. She arches up, his hands slide under her, his fingertips glide across her lower back, and his lips cover hers once more.

And his next actions leave no doubt in her mind that his troubles are forgotten.

* * *

**End.**


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